


and this you shall remember

by driedvoices



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedvoices/pseuds/driedvoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for be_themoon of livejournal, for the prompt "bodies of water."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this you shall remember

The moon is shy and pale through his window. He is not watching it. 

Instead, he looks at Susan, a shadow on the grass, moving slowly away from Cair Paravel. He stares at her pensively, chin resting on his hands. Her feet are deft and quick against the familiar ground and he wonders if she really believes that he wouldn't see, that she was sly enough to sneak by unnoticed. Then she pauses for a moment and turns toward the castle, and there is an invitation on her face, stark in the night. His lips twitch imperceptibly and he grabs for his boots.

-

"I'd sooner recommend a warm glass of milk, sister," he remarks, and shivers. "Surely no sleeplessness exists that can't be cured in front of a fireplace? Indoors, even."

"Oh, hush," she mutters, and tugs on his hand until he is kneeling behind her. The wood is damp and dark around them, breathing around their intrusion. The stream trickles down merrily, unconcerned with the hour or its impropriety. Edmund considers telling it to learn some manners, but Susan is trailing her fingers over its surface, like cutting through dark glass. 

"I like the noise," she admits, like it's something clandestine and shameful. "It gets too still, sometimes."

Edmund nods and she smiles at him, gleaming. Vaguely, tiredly, he thinks that maybe she is the only light here; he sees as she wills it. She leans her head against his leg with a contented sound, and a dryad whispers from somewhere deep. He tips his head back and for some reason, he can't see the moon, only stars protruding like knife-points.

"You liar, you're not cold at all," Susan murmurs, and wraps her arms around his waist anyway. 

-

They don't come back until almost dawn, and they sleep until noon, much to Peter's displeasure. 

"What am I to do with you," he says and shakes his head. "This is quite unbecoming, you know."

"Oh, bugger off, Pete," Edmund says, cracking his neck and squinting at the sunlight. Susan stretches and yawns, settling herself more comfortably in her throne.

A young fawn coughs embarrassedly in the crowd. Lucy grins at him sympathetically while the rest of the court carries on as usual. They have, after all, seen much odder. 

-

This time Susan comes for him in late afternoon, with Lucy and Peter in tow. 

"We're going to the shore," she informs him, and tugs him swiftly out of his chambers and down the stairs. 

"Did either of you get a choice?" he asks, smiling absentmindedly. 

"What do you think," Peter grumbles good-naturedly, while Lucy beams and says of course not. 

The wind brings the ocean spray to their faces far before they reach the water, and Susan's face is pink with it already. "Come on, then," she says brightly, wading in up to her hips. 

Edmund reaches her first and when he looks back, Lucy and Peter are only specks, an unfocused photograph. 

"Why don't we do this every day," she says to no one in particular. 

"We do have to pretend to be in charge every once in a while, you know," he reminds her, pulling her close. Her fingers are icy and he holds them near his chest; he has no fear of the cold, after all.

"Who asked you, anyway," she murmurs in pretended annoyance. Edmund doesn't know, but the salty air makes her skin licorice-sweet. 

-

"Would that the sun stayed out longer," Susan muses, once they're all thoroughly wet and sandy and needing a good drying off. Her fingers are buried in the sand and she tilts her face up, the last orangey rays coloring her face. 

"Perhaps it would if you rose earlier," Peter chides, and she wrinkles her nose at him. 

"He has a point, actually," Edmund concedes, busying himself with piling sand on her lap. She opens her eyes to look down at his work and sighs. 

"But you are such a pest, Ed," she complains. 

"Only as much as you'll allow, my queen," he says seriously, right before Lucy tackles him into the surf.

-

"Perhaps one day we'll go sailing," she says, river rushing around her toes. 

"We've been sailing before," he reminds her. The hem of her dress dips into the water, and he kindly plucks it out for her. 

"I suppose we have. What about a real voyage, then? Somewhere far and undiscovered." Edmund watches the way the river reflects itself onto her face, nervous excitement and struggling energy.

"I should like that, Su," he agrees. 

"Of course you would, that's why I brought it up." He splashes water at her and she is relentless in her counter-attack. 

"You're such a child," he teases her, and she looks up at him in defiance. 

"And what? I will stay a child forever if I please."

"But you would hate that."

"I suppose I would," she complies, and lets him splash her once without retaliation, a reward for cleverness. 

"I really do want to, though," she says, brushing his dripping hair from his face. "Sail, that is."

"Then I shall take you," he replies and kisses her palm. 

-

"Perhaps we could go down to the seaside," Edmund suggests, while Lucy lolls on the front porch and Peter sits beside her, reading. 

"Oh, Ed," Susan says, smearing lipstick onto her mouth; it gapes like a wound. "What is there to do at the seaside?"

"We could rent a sailboat," he says, smiling nostalgically. 

"I get seasick," she shrugs. "Let's just go into town."


End file.
